For the last 5-6 years, I’ve always written something for Dashain, one of the biggest festivals of Nepal. Most of my writings circled around nostalgia of the past, of the bygone days of childhood. But for a while, I’ve been irked about the romanticization of childhood days. That time is already gone, and yes, it might have been beautiful, innocent, carefree (insert any other adjective), but it is already gone – what can anyone do about that?
I’ve been trying to live in the present, some might call it practicing mindfulness. I suffered a health issue for most of the year, and I had to live from moment to moment afraid that I might get a flare-up anytime. Thankfully, that seems resolved now.
So, this Dashain, the year 2080 of the Bikram Sambat calendar, I decided I am not going to write about nostalgia. With the same spirit, I hosted a Toastmasters meeting sharing some unique and lesser-known details of the festival. It was interesting to uncover stories about why we fly kites during the festival and to get to know that the festival is about 650 years old.
One of my major learnings this year has been to do things, even if it means I have to do them on my own. With that I am relearning to enjoy my own company (which I very much enjoyed as a kid, oh wait, no nostalgia!). Thus, when I got an idea to do a photo walk during the festival time, I knew I just had to get out there. I walked about 6 kilometers around Patan, and I put together a photo prose.
It was the 8th day of the 10-day festival. The 8th day is Maha Ashtami. The skies were clear, and the wind was generous. Along with my cousins, we flew some kites and lost two of them in a kite battle with a neighbor whose kite flying skills made ours feel subpar.
I headed out for a walk in the evening. My walk began from Sankhamul, near Baneshwor.
I wished I could take a picture without anyone approaching the bridge, but that was not possible. It’s a bridge, after all. As I approached the Sikbahil area, I noticed the skies with more kites. The skies have felt emptier this time.
I was a bit too shy to take pictures of the people playing the Dhimay Baja and dancing.
It had been years since I last visited this particular stupa, so I decided to quickly go around. I met some kids carrying kites and playing.
I visited some temples on the way, the most prominent one being the Bangalamukhi. The marigold garlands were on full display at shops outside where one could buy materials to perform the puja and other rituals. Inside, people were paying respects and performing rituals. There was a special serenity in the environment.
Mangal Bazaar always looks lovely. There is no debate on this. People are always there, often in pairs or in groups. The only other solo person, like myself, that I met (not at the Bazaar but earlier) was a tourist taking pictures. The road that led to the Bazaar was occasionally littered with kite remains.
I’d never really paid attention to the warm lights that reflected on the wooden structures. I did on that day. Perhaps that was mindfulness.
The road to and from Mahapal is often in a state of distress. And the day I decided to walk around was not among the lucky ones for the condition of the road. A scooter had probably slipped, people were trying to help its owner get up when I noticed the scene.
I took a different route and almost forgot about Pimbahal, a lovely pond spot in Patan. How could I! So I took the long route to get there.
This place has, in recent times, emerged as one of the most ‘happening places’ in Patan. I’m not sure when this happened. I’d pass this place on my way to work everyday and it was not yet such a lively place as it is now. It might be the cafes and the food outlets around that might have transformed it, or maybe the ducks residing in the pond turned out to be magical.
There are some donut places too (the ones that look fancy like the donut emoji). I almost craved for one but had to use self-control to let the craving pass. Pimbahal has a famous, must eat chips place too (more than one now, and using self-control once more to resist the urge to munch on them).
My final stop, before I stuffed my phone in my bag and hurried home, was Purnachandi. I remember this pond being in a very bad shape in the past. It’s good to see it getting revived.
And that’s all for the walk.
The Wordcastle 